A Place To Belong:  Beginnings
by lorilee66
Summary: What if a different Barkley was Tom's illegitimate son?  This is very much an AU written in response to a challenge.
1. Chapter 1

_This story is very much AU. It's in response to a challenge _ _issued in The Corral on The Big Valley Writing Desk in June/09 by valleyloverjar._

_There's series dialogue worked in throughout, hope you enjoy! LL_

_I don't own the Big Valley and the only thing I make is your comments and my own satifaction.  
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The attorney looked around his office in satisfaction. Not very fancy like the big law offices in Boston or San Francisco, but at least it was clean and tidy. A serviceable desk sat in one corner with a couple chairs for clients and his law books were lined up neatly in the small bookcase. He walked over and nudged the frame of the degree on the wall, making it hang perfectly straight and remembered the proud look in his mama's eyes when he'd brought it home. He shook his head as he recalled the incredulous look on his uncle's face when he found out, shocked beyond belief that 'the little bastard', as he always referred to his nephew, had graduated at the top of his class from one of the most respected institutions in the States. Walking to the door, he unlocked it and stepped out into the bright Stockton sunshine to double-check his name hanging out front. He flipped the sign on the door to 'Open' before he went back and sat at his desk, looking at his watch before picking up a volume of case law to review.

Not the most glamorous location for a law office, he had to admit while he waited for a client to come through the door. He'd had a few offers to work in those fancy offices back east after graduating, but his heart lay in California with his mama so he returned to start off somewhere closer to home. Strawberry was too small to require the services of a lawyer and Sacramento, being the capitol, was too much of an old boys' club for a young lawyer with no family name, so he'd decided on the growing town of Stockton. He wanted his mama to move with him and out of that decaying rathole of a town, but she didn't want to leave the place she'd lived in most of her life. He sighed. She hadn't looked well when he'd stopped there last week. At least it wasn't much more than a day's ride back home and he planned to visit as soon as he could.

By the end of the day, he'd picked up a few clients, an elderly widow who was being strong-armed by her landlord, a man who was being sued by his neighbour for damage done by the family goat and someone passing through town who wanted a sales contract looked over. Not high-paying cases, to be sure, but enough to make a respectable start and as he flipped the sign to 'Closed' at the end of the day, he knew he'd made the right decision to come to Stockton.


	2. Chapter 2

Nick Barkley was livid. It was bad enough that Ezra Craddock was trying to start a range war, scaring off the hands hired to harvest the year's orange crop, but having Hal Walker brush him off, telling him in that condescending tone that there was no way to get the land dispute heard by the courts in less than six weeks, just stuck in his craw. No, he wasn't Tom Barkley, and yes, he was only twenty-four, but that didn't give his father's lawyer the right to treat him like some wet-behind-the-ears kid!

He stormed into the saloon and stomped up to the bar. "Whiskey," he growled and the bartender complied without a word, not wanting to aggravate the obviously irate rancher any further than he already was.

"Lawyers," Nick muttered as he tossed back his drink and gestured for the bartender to leave the bottle. "A bunch of arrogant, no-good snakes, the whole lot."

"Having a few legal troubles?"

A smooth baritone broke into his thoughts and Nick looked over at the speaker. A pair of bright blue eyes danced merrily at him as the dark haired man took a sip of his own drink.

"Not that it's any of your business," Nick groused and topped off his glass.

"Nope, reckon it isn't." The other man pushed back his hat and leaned against the bar, idly playing with his drink.

Nick looked at him curiously and wondered why he seemed so familiar. "Have we met before?"

The stranger shook his head. "Just moved to town a couple days ago. Stockton's growing, seemed like a good place to set up shop." He finished his drink and Nick refilled it without being asked. Something about the blue-eyed stranger intrigued him.

"And what is it that you do?"

"I'm a lawyer."

Nick coughed a little on his whiskey. _Put your foot in it that time, Barkley,_ he admonished himself. "Uh, sorry about what I just said. I guess you could say I'm having some legal troubles."

"So I gathered," the other man said with a grin. He held out his hand. "Jarrod Thomson, attorney."

Nick took the offered hand and shook it. "Nick Barkley. Say, you wouldn't have the time to maybe take on a new client, would you?'

"I just might." Jarrod pulled a battered old watch out of his pocket and checked the time before draining his glass. "Why don't we head over to my office and talk about it?"

Nick followed suit, placing his empty glass on the bar and readjusting his hat. "Sounds like a fine idea. Let's go."

.

"Nice place you got here," Nick commented as he looked around the spartan but scrupulously tidy space located a couple blocks off the main street and was unable to stop from comparing it to Walker's lavish oak panelled office.

"You take what you can get," the lawyer said as he hung his hat on a hook beside the door. He leaned on the edge of the desk and tucked his fingers in his pockets. "So, Mr. Barkley, what seems to be your legal problem?"

Nick slapped his hat down on the desk and draped himself into one of the chairs. "Land dispute. How much do you know about the area?"

Jarrod shrugged. "Some. Grew up a little over a day's ride from here, a mining camp up the Stanislaus."

"You may have heard of our family then."

Jarrod chuckled. "I don't think there's anyone near this valley who hasn't heard of the Barkleys."

"Well, the Barkley spread is bordered on the north by the Craddock Ranch. The divider is Green Creek, but there was a flash flood not long ago that changed the course of the creek and the darned thing cut way into our property. Put a big chunk of our orange groves on Craddock's side of the divider." Nick blew out a gust of air in frustration. "Ever since then, old man Craddock's claimed it was an act of God and says those orange trees are now his. He and his men have been taking potshots at anyone who tries to even get near to pick those oranges. Scared off half our harvest hands."

"And the courts can't settle it?"

Nick pounded his fist on the arm of the chair. "Pompous windbag of a lawyer says the case can't be heard for at least six weeks." He turned an almost repentant smile towards Jarrod. "No offence."

Jarrod walked across the room to look out the window. "And it's harvest time now," he mused. "I'm thinking you don't have six weeks."

"You got that straight. And that's just the least of our problems. We've spent years cultivating just to prove we can grow oranges. If Craddock gets his hands on that land, he'll chop down those trees and turn the land back to pasture!" Nick rose to his feet and paced across the small space. "So, what do you think?"

"Well…"

Both men turned as the door opened.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Thomson, I didn't realize you were busy."

"Please, come in, Mrs. Perkins." Jarrod bestowed a charming smile on the grey-haired woman. "What can I do for you?"

The elderly lady patted him on the arm and handed him a cloth-covered basket. "Some fresh baked bread and a dozen eggs and I'll bring you some more next week, just like we agreed." She looked at him hesitantly. "Are you sure it's enough, after the way you helped me out…?"

Jarrod set the basket on the top of the bookcase. "I think it's quite reasonable," he reassured her. He opened the door as Mrs. Perkins turned to go. "Now if you have any more trouble with that landlord of yours, you just come on by, all right?"

Mrs. Perkins smiled brightly. "Thank you again, Mr. Thomson," she said as she left.

Nick indicated the basket with a raised brow. "Bread and eggs?"

Jarrod just smiled. "I'd have to buy them anyway and this just saves me a trip to the store; plus, it's what she can afford. But don't worry, Mr. Barkley, I expect a man of your means to pay cash," he added with a light-hearted glint in his eye.

Nick had to laugh at that. "Assuming you can do anything worth paying for."

"Well, for a small retainer I'll look over the documents and precedents and let you know what I think." Jarrod gave him an appraising look. "Ten dollars sound reasonable?"

Nick fished a gold eagle out of his pocket and slapped it into Jarrod's hand. "You have yourself a client, Mr. Thomson," he said. "Can you meet me tomorrow, say, three o'clock?"

"I'll be here," Jarrod confirmed and Nick replaced his hat firmly on his head before leaving the office, smiling at the imagined look on Hal Walker's face when he found out he was no longer the sole lawyer for the Barkley family.

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"Mother!"

Victoria winced from where she was arranging flowers in the parlour. "I'm right here, Nick," she admonished. "Must you yell?"

Nick took off his hat and stripped off his gloves. "Sorry, Mother, didn't see you there." He walked over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Where's Heath?' He turned and hollered up the stairs. "Heath!"

Victoria closed her eyes, "Really, Nick!" she said in frustration. "Your brother is out looking over the new horses. He said to tell you he wasn't able to find any new harvest hands for the oranges."

"Figures." Nick stalked over to the drinks table and poured himself a whiskey. "I'd hoped word hadn't gotten too far about our little dispute with the Craddocks. Guess I was wrong."

Victoria placed the last of the flowers in the vase. "I don't understand why Ezra can't be reasonable," she said as she came into the room. "I mean, Heath's idea of harvesting the crop and putting the profits into escrow until the dispute is settled works in everyone's favour."

"Yeah, well, some people just can't be reasonable and Craddocks are at the top of that list." Nick finished his drink. "Guess I should go up and get ready for dinner." He started up the stairs and then turned around. "Oh, by the way, I hired a new lawyer. Name's Thomson."

Victoria raised an elegant eyebrow. "And what happened to Hal?"

Nick snorted in exasperation. "Hal Walker treats me like a two-year-old. Figures I don't know the difference between a contract and a waiver. Can't get him to budge his sorry carcass and get something done before those oranges all rot on the trees or Craddock starts chopping them down."

"Maybe you just need to give him more time to get used to dealing with you," Victoria advised. "He was your father's lawyer since we came to this valley, you know."

"We don't _have _time!" Nick smacked his hand against the rail. "And I'm not Father and he points that out every time I see him. I've been running this ranch with Heath's help for almost a year, successfully I might add, contracts and payrolls and everything! What more do I have to do to get some respect?" He shook his head at his mother's cautioning look. "No, Mother, I think it's time for a change. And I dunno exactly what it is, but there's something about this Jarrod Thomson. I really think he's going do something for us."

"I certainly hope you're right, dear," Victoria told him. "Now, Silas is fixing chicken creole for dinner, so you don't want to be late."

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Jarrod tossed a few of the eggs in a skillet, crumbling in the last bit of cheese from the cupboard as he stirred them. Not a great dinner, but better than a lot he'd had in his life. He'd be able to put aside some of the money Nick Barkley had paid him and use it for the rent on the office with the small room in behind he was using as living quarters, plus possibly save a bit to send home to his mama. He chuckled a bit to himself and sliced some of Mrs. Perkins' delicious-smelling bread as he thought of his new client. Definitely a case of being in the right place at the right time for a fledgling attorney to land a well-to-do client like that. Now all he had to do was keep him.

Jarrod poured himself a cup of coffee, took his meal to the small table wedged in the corner beside the bed and sat, pencil in hand to work out exactly how to start resolving the land dispute in the Barkleys' favour.


	3. Chapter 3

"I'd like to see Judge Parker please."

Jarrod turned a dashing smile on the auburn-haired receptionist as she looked up from the document she was copying. Her cheeks flushed under his gaze when she returned the smile.

"Do you have an appointment, sir?"

"No," he said, removing his hat and leaning slightly on the desk. "When do you think is the earliest I could make one, Miss…?" Jarrod had taken the morning to peruse the papers in the county records pertaining to the boundary between the Barkley and Craddock ranches before heading to the courthouse to search out precedents. With arguments marshalled and papers in order, all that was left now was to get the judge to sign the court order.

"Carson," the pretty secretary replied. "Amelia Carson." She flipped through a calendar on her desk. "The judge has a very busy schedule, Mr…" She also paused, waiting.

"Jarrod Thomson, attorney, at your service," he said gallantly. He took her hand in a genteel handshake and held it slightly longer than strictly necessary. "My client has a very urgent matter that needs to be addressed. The lives of several thousand oranges are at stake if it isn't resolved immediately."

Miss Carson smiled at his light-hearted manner. "Well, Mr. Thomson, I'm afraid the judge doesn't have any time until…" She looked again into his blue eyes as his gaze never left her. "Why don't I see if he has a moment now?"

"The oranges and I would be eternally grateful, Miss Carson," Jarrod told her and the charming smile never left his lips.

She blushed again as he moved around the desk to hold her chair as she got up. "Just wait here."

"I won't move an inch," Jarrod promised.

The redhead disappeared into the inner office and came out a moment later. "Go right in, Mr. Thomson."

"You," he said, picking up his hat before taking her hand and kissing it lightly, "are an angel."

He left the sighing receptionist in the outer office as he closed the door behind him. The tall greying man behind the heavy oak desk stood and extended his hand.

"I don't believe we've met, Mr. Thomson," he said as Jarrod shook his hand with a firm grip.

"Haven't had the pleasure yet, Your Honour." Jarrod turned the charm he had used on the judge's secretary into an air of confidence. "I've only been in town for a few days and I'm still trying to get everything in order."

"Have a seat." The judge gestured to a chair in front of the desk and Jarrod sat as the judge moved back to his own comfortable leather chair. "Now what can I do for you? My secretary led me to believe it was an urgent matter."

"It is." Jarrod pulled the papers he'd prepared out of their folder and handed them to the judge. Judge Parker perused them carefully as Jarrod outlined the situation. "So you see," he concluded, "if this dispute isn't resolved right away, the financial repercussions will be significant and there have already been reports of threats and violence."

The judge stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I will need time to review the matter," he said slowly, "read the depositions, hear statements from the involved parties…" He looked up sharply. "Isn't this matter is already on the docket for a few weeks from now?"

"In a few weeks, the matter will almost be moot if the oranges aren't picked," Jarrod said quickly. "I understand the time needed for due process, which is why I'm only requesting that you order that the trees be left standing and my client be allowed to harvest his crop. That way, the oranges won't spoil before the case can be heard properly. He's willing to hold on to any proceeds from the harvest until ownership can be confirmed." _At least, I hope he's willing to do that,_ Jarrod thought. Nick Barkley wasn't supposed to meet him until later that afternoon but he hadn't wanted to waste time. _Oh, well, he can always fire me if he doesn't like it_.

The judge slowly nodded, picked up his pen and signed the bottom of the prepared paper. "Here's your court order, Mr. Thomson," he said, handing it across the desk to Jarrod who folded it and returned it to the folder. "I look forward to seeing you in my courtroom."

"And I look forward to being there, Your Honour," Jarrod replied and gave the judge a parting handshake before gathering his things and leaving the office.

"Are the oranges saved?" Miss Carson asked as Jarrod paused at her desk.

"They've been given a reprieve," Jarrod told her with a smile as he donned his hat. "I hope I'll have the pleasure of running into you again, Miss Carson."

"I'm looking forward to it, Mr. Thomson," she said with a lovely smile of her own.

He tipped his hat to her as left and wondered whether he had the funds to ask her out to dinner sometime soon. He was whistling as he unlocked the door to his office and looked up when he heard the jingling of spurs.

"I hope your good mood has something to do with my case, counsellor," Nick Barkley said, leaning against the wall as Jarrod opened the door.

"Partially, Mr. Barkley," Jarrod assured him with a grin and ushered the tall rancher inside. He put the leather folder down on the desk and took out the paper signed by the judge. "Judge Parker issued an order stating that you have the right to harvest your crop while we're waiting for the hearing, provided the money is put in escrow until the final decision. And I've found enough precedents to feel confident that decision will end up in your favour."

Nick's face broke out in a wide grin and he gave Jarrod a hearty slap on the back that almost knocked the wind out of him. "Now all I've got to do is stuff this in Craddock's face," he gloated, smacking the paper into his gloved hand. "Care to come with me, Thomson?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Mr. Barkley."

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Nick chortled with glee as they walked off Ezra Craddock's porch and gathered their horses' reins. "Did you see his face?" Nick said as he mounted. "Never seen a man look so much like a landed fish."

"We still have to win in court, Mr. Barkley," Jarrod cautioned, but he was filled with satisfaction as well.

"Pah," Nick said dismissively. "Just a formality. And it's Nick."

"All right, Nick." Jarrod smiled. "Just don't count your chickens before they hatch."

Nick only chuckled as they moved down the road. He couldn't help noticing Jarrod's cavalry straight posture and the easy way he held the sorrel's reins in his left hand with his right resting casually at his side. He thought the posture seemed somehow familiar, but a lot of men rode like that, including his late father and Nick shrugged off the feeling.

"Hey, Thomson," he called as the attorney took the turn to town, struck with the urge to get to know the dark-haired man better, "if you don't have any other plans, why don't you come to the ranch for dinner?"

Jarrod stopped and shifted in the saddle to face Nick. "I wouldn't want to impose," he replied, "and if it's Nick, then it's Jarrod."

"Won't be an imposition at all, Jarrod," Nick assured him. "There's always plenty and I think the family'd like to meet you. What do you say?"

Jarrod nodded after a moment. "All right, Nick, sounds good." He turned his horse's head and they rode together in the direction of the Barkley ranch.

"Nice place." Jarrod looked around at the sprawl of outbuildings topped off by the huge white mansion. "Ranching and oranges seem to be paying off."

"We do all right," Nick said dismissively as they dismounted, but Jarrod caught the gleam of pride in the hazel eyes. "Hey, Heath!" he called as they led their horses in the direction of the barn. A young blond cowboy turned and pushed back his hat as he sauntered over to them and a stablehand took the reins of the horses to lead them away.

"Hey, Nick," he said, looking over at Nick's guest. "How'd things go in town?"

"Jarrod here got the judge to issue an order saying Craddock has to let us harvest the crop," Nick replied with a grin. "You should've seen the look on old Ezra's face when we gave him the good news."

"Well, boy howdy, that's music to my ears." Heath's face sported a grin of its own.

"Oh, forgot the introductions." Nick turned to Jarrod. "Jarrod, this here's my brother Heath. Heath, this is Jarrod Thomson, our new lawyer. I invited him to stay for dinner."

"Mr. Thomson," Heath greeted and shook his hand.

Jarrod smiled at the formality. "Jarrod, please."

"I'm about done here," Heath told them, "we can go tell Mother to set another place for supper."

The three men strode companionably toward the house.

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Victoria heard the footsteps on the porch as she walked out of the dining room and her heart almost stopped as she entered the foyer.

_It can't be. _

She blinked and the brief vision of her husband and two sons coming into the house vanished and was replaced with that of Nick and Heath, an unfamiliar man between them. Regaining her composure, Victoria pushed away the unsettling feeling the dark haired stranger gave her and smiled graciously.

"Mother," Nick greeted, moving to sling an arm around her shoulders, "this is Jarrod Thomson, the lawyer I was telling you about. Got done in one day what Hal Walker hasn't been able to do in six. Jarrod, my mother Victoria Barkley.'

Jarrod chuckled. "I keep telling Nick that the land is still disputed and I haven't really done anything yet but he doesn't seem to listen." He inclined his head politely. "Mrs. Barkley, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"You as well." Victoria shook off the shiver his deep voice gave her. "Nick, I'm assuming you've asked Mr. Thomson to stay for dinner?"

"Yep." Nick walked into the parlour and held up a glass. "Jarrod, what'll it be? Whiskey or scotch?"

"A scotch sounds good." Jarrod followed and took the proffered glass after Nick filled it.

"Mother? Heath?" Nick offered and poured for the rest of the family before getting his own. He held it up. "To the orange harvest," he toasted.

"If we send the hands we've got out there first thing tomorrow morning," Heath observed after everyone drank to Nick's toast, "the word'll get out and we could have a full crew within a day or two. I know Pedro and a few of the others said they'd be back when it was safe."

"Say, Jarrod." Nick gestured with his drink. "If you've got some free time, you should come on a tour of the place. See those oranges you're helping us save."

"Well, I probably should spend some time in my office," Jarrod reminded him. "It's going to be hard for new clients to find me out in an orange grove."

"Bah." Nick waved off his concerns. "Once folks find out you're working for us, business'll be beating down your door. Get out of that stuffy office and dirty those lily white hands of yours, why don't you?"

Jarrod glanced down at his hands and Victoria could see they were scarred and weathered and wondered a bit. They weren't the sort of hands she'd expect on someone who made his living at an office in town.

"I guess they could stand to get dirty once in a while," he said lightly. "All right, Nick. How about tomorrow?"

Nick's answer was cut off as he saw Audra come down the stairs. "Audra," he announced, "this is our new lawyer, Jarrod Thomson. Jarrod, this lovely young woman is my little sister Audra."

"Miss Barkley," Jarrod said courteously to the pretty young blonde.

"Hello," Audra replied and gave him a brilliant dimpled smile before turning to her mother with a slightly puzzled expression. "I didn't realize we were hiring a new lawyer. Did Mr. Walker move or something?"

"No, dear," Victoria replied, "but Mr. Thomson has impressed your brother a great deal. Silas," she said as the major-domo came out of the archway, "please set another place for dinner. We have a guest."

"Of course, Mrs. Barkley. Dinner will be on the table in a minute." Silas took a second glance in their guest's direction before returning to the dining room and Victoria wondered what he'd seen to put that strange expression on his face.

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"So, Jarrod," Heath asked after they settled down to eat, "what brings you to Stockton? Nick told us you just moved in not long ago."

Jarrod reached for his water glass, taking a moment to admire the finely cut crystal before answering. He'd been invited to dinner several times by more well-to-do acquaintances and was always amazed by the sheer amount of food that graced the table. He wondered if the family appreciated how fortunate they were.

"I wanted to hang my shingle someplace not too far from home," he explained. "Stockton seemed to be the logical choice."

"And where is home?" Audra wanted to know.

Jarrod took a sip. "You probably haven't heard of it. A little mining camp called Strawberry. Not too many people live there anymore since the mine played out."

Victoria slowly put down her fork as the food in her mouth turned to sawdust. _No, _her mind denied as pieces started clicking into place. _No, he can't be._ She ruthlessly pushed away the growing suspicion and refused to acknowledge it.

"I've heard of it," Heath told them. "Mother, didn't Father own the mine up there, a long time ago?"

Victoria nodded as her heart raced. "Yes, we sold it before Nick was even born. More potatoes, Mr. Thomson?" she asked, trying to appear calm.

"Yes, please." Jarrod took the offered bowl.

"So how does a kid from a mining camp end up going to Harvard?" Nick wanted to know. At Jarrod's raised eyebrow, he added, "Noticed the degree on your wall. Pretty impressive."

Jarrod shrugged. "The attorney I read law with gave me a recommendation before he passed away," he said modestly. "He didn't have any family and bequeathed me a generous amount, almost enough to cover tuition." He thought about the long hours loading freight at the train yard to make ends meet and marvelled, not for the first time, that he managed to find time to study and sleep as well.

"Your folks must've been real proud," Heath commented as he speared a slice of roast beef out from under Nick's fork. Nick gave his brother a good-natured glare before grabbing another.

Smiling, Jarrod said, "I've never seen anyone look as happy as my mama when I showed her."

"And your father?" Audra asked brightly and Victoria held her breath.

Jarrod cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Never knew my father, Miss Barkley." There was an awkward silence around the table until Nick spoke up.

"So, Jarrod, how does eight o'clock sound for that tour tomorrow?"

"Sounds good, Nick."

Victoria was relieved at the change of subject and saw that relief echoed on the face of the young lawyer. She remained quiet through the rest of dinner and let the talk wash over her, her mind in something akin to a state of shock. _No,_ she thought over and over, _no, Tom, how could you? How could you?_

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Heath noticed something was up with his mother throughout dinner. He wasn't sure what it was; the conversation was innocuous and their guest was charming and well-mannered. Nick took Jarrod into the library after dinner to show him some of the boundary maps for the ranch with Audra tagging along, so Heath took the opportunity to speak to Victoria once they were alone.

"Mother?" he asked. "Are you feeling okay?"

Victoria looked up at him and blinked. "What was that, dear?"

"I was wondering if you were feeling all right," he repeated. "You were awfully quiet through dinner."

She gave him a small smile. "I'm fine, Heath. Just thinking is all. Heath," she continued after a moment, "what do you think of Jarrod Thomson?"

"Seems like a nice enough fellow. He and Nick get along real well." He gave her a lop-sided grin. "Better than Nick and Hal Walker. There's been more than a few times I've had to rein in Nick's temper when Mr. Walker tries to brush him off." He regarded her closely. "You sure you're all right?"

Victoria patted him on the arm. "Don't worry about me, dear. Why don't you head into the library with Nick and our guest? I'll just see if Silas needs a hand."

Heath shook his head as he watched her leave the room. _And she complains I never open up when something's bothering me._ He chuckled. At least he came by it honestly.

.

Victoria bypassed the archway, deciding to go up the back stairs. Silas was in the kitchen readying a tray and looked up when he heard her.

"Just taking some coffee in," he told her. "Will you be joining everyone?"

Victoria shook her head. "No, Silas. I'm just… not feeling very well at the moment. Could you please give them my regrets?"

"Of course, Mrs. Barkley." Silas placed the sugar bowl on the tray. "Mr. Thomson seems to fit right in with your boys," he said, seemingly out of the blue.

Glancing at him sharply, Victoria recalled the expression she'd seen on her long-time friend's face earlier. He wasn't looking at her as he arranged the cups. "You noticed something, didn't you, Silas?"

"Not my place to say, Mrs. Barkley." He picked up the tray and looked at her. "But from what I saw at dinner, he seems like a fine young man."

Victoria nodded as she blinked to keep the moisture in her eyes at bay. "Yes, he does, Silas," she answered quietly, "a credit to both his parents."

She slowly climbed the stairs, going to her room and shutting the door. She sat at the dressing table and unfastened her hair before picking up her ivory-handled brush and slowly pulled it through the silver locks.

Strawberry. She hadn't thought about the place for years. When Tom sold the mine, she'd closed that chapter of their lives, having forgiven her husband for his indiscretion long before.

Forgiven, but not able to be forgotten, she realized, the product of Tom's liaison with Leah Thomson having coffee in the library at that very moment. She had no doubts; by Silas' comments he recognized the resemblance the young man bore to her husband the same as she had and the name and place fit the circumstances like a glove.

_How, Tom?_ she thought. _How could we have missed realizing that there could have been a child? Why didn't that young man's mother contact us, let you know you had a son?_ She thought of the scarred and calloused hands she'd noticed and wondered what kind of childhood a fatherless boy would have had in a rough mining camp like Strawberry. She was under no illusions that it was anything like the life Tom's other sons had, knowing the stigma an unwed mother and her child lived under. With no husband to support her, Victoria shuddered to think of what Jarrod's mother might have resorted to in order to provide for him. She didn't know much of the woman her husband had betrayed her with, only her name and the circumstances of their meeting that Tom had finally revealed to her in a moment of guilt when he was unable to live with the secret of his infidelity any longer. It had taken a while for Victoria to forgive him, but she never could fault the young woman for taking in a stranger who had been beaten half to death and nursing him back to health. She easily understood how Leah had fallen for Tom, his good looks and rugged charm able to sway his wife even until the last days of their marriage.

_What should I do, Tom?_ she wondered as she picked up the picture she always kept on her desk. Tom Barkley's eyes gazed out at her, a match for the brilliant blue of the young lawyer downstairs. _His mother seems to have raised him into a fine man and he's done well for himself. Do I have the right to disrupt his life? And do I have the right to deny him knowledge of his heritage, his birthright as your son?_ Those thoughts weighed on Victoria's mind as she readied herself for bed and she was no closer to an answer when she finally drifted off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Jarrod enjoyed the fresh air and bright sunshine as he rode beside the Barkleys. Working at the livery in Strawberry when he was growing up had instilled in him a deep love of horses and he always took every chance he could to be in the saddle.

He glanced over at the men beside him and smiled at the good-natured ribbing they were giving each other. Again, he felt the longing he'd always had for a brother of his own. He thought of the letters he'd written when he was a little boy that asked Santa for a brother for Christmas and smiled wistfully to think of what his mama must have thought of such a request.

Jarrod heard the lowing of cattle ahead and was suitably impressed when they came over the rise and saw the extent of the herd. Nick and Heath had already shown him the orange grove and they decided he needed a full tour, so this next stop was at one of the herds being moved to a new range. The cattle were trudging along, kicking up a small cloud of dust and Jarrod could hear the yipping of the cowboys as they chivvied the reluctant beasts.

"That's quite a herd," he remarked.

Nick grinned broadly. "And that's just one of them. Got a smaller one that we're gonna be driving to Sacramento next week and there's a couple thousand more head scattered about."

Heath pushed back his hat. "Roundup can take a fair while," he observed, "not to mention branding and riding fence." He gave Nick a cheeky grin. "It's a good thing one of us always does a full day's work."

"Yeah, wonder which one of us it is?" Nick shot back, grabbing his brother by the back of the neck and giving him a shake. "Want to get a little closer, Jarrod?"

"Why not?" Jarrod urged his mount to follow as they went down the hill.

Nick pulled up in front of an older man who was riding swing. "How're they moving, Mac?"

The other man pulled his bandana out of his pocket and wiped his brow. "Going good, Nick. We should have them settled by sundown."

"Mac, this is Jarrod Thomson," Heath interjected. "Jarrod, our ranch foreman, Duke McCall."

That was when pandemonium broke out. Something must have startled some of the cattle and a large group broke away, heading straight for them. They all rode down the stampeding beeves and Nick marvelled at how ably Jarrod spurred his horse after a small knot of steers. The lawyer nimbly manoeuvred the sorrel he was riding to get around the beasts and bunch them up before sending them back to the main herd.

Nick was rounding up his own group when the new horse he was riding that day spooked as one of the animals came barrelling at him. He tried to get the plunging mount under control, but the bovine clipped him as it hurtled past and sent him flying out of the saddle. Scrambling to get his feet under him as a one-ton steer bore down on him, Nick saw Heath racing towards him from the other direction out of the corner of his eye. But his brother was too far away with too many animals between them and wouldn't be able to reach him and when his foot slipped, Nick knew he wouldn't be able to get clear before he was trampled under those flying hooves.

But then Jarrod was there. He guided his horse through the confusion and cut off the steer careening towards the dark rancher before he reached down and hauled Nick into the saddle behind him.

The ranch foreman rode over to Heath as the other men finished rounding up the cattle and the beeves settled back into their plodding pace as though the stampede never happened.

"New hand?" Mac asked, impressed, as he watched Jarrod and Nick come their way.

Heath shook his head in disbelief. "Nope, new lawyer."

Mac looked at him in surprise. "Too bad. We could use someone like that out here."

"You okay, Nick?" Heath asked as the two dark haired men trotted up.

"Reckon I got a few bruises," Nick replied, "but still in one piece, thanks to Jarrod here. Guess that horse needs a little more work."

One of the other cowboys brought Nick's horse over. "That was some ride," he complimented the attorney as Nick slid to the ground to check the bay over.

"Where'd you learn to ride like that?" Heath wanted to know.

Jarrod shrugged, a bit uncomfortable with all the attention. "Oh, here and there. Worked a few roundups in New Mexico when the ranches were shorthanded."

"Well, if you ever decide to give up lawyering," Nick said, straightening up after satisfying himself the horse wasn't injured, "you can always get a place here."

The other cowboy looked at Jarrod incredulously. "You can't be. No way a lawyer can handle a horse like that."

"I've been a lot of different things." Jarrod took off his hat and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his sleeve. "Just ended up a lawyer."

Nick reached over to give him an exuberant slap on the back. "Well, counsellor," he said with a grin, "want to give us a hand moving them the rest of the way? Should be done in time to head into town after and I can buy you a drink for saving my life."

"How can I turn down an offer like that?" Jarrod replied with a smile of his own and fixed his hat firmly on his head. "Let's get these beeves moved."

.

It was well past midnight when Jarrod collapsed onto his narrow bed. He could already feel his muscles stiffening and longed for a hot soak, but he didn't think he could find the energy to haul and heat enough water.

He smiled. Sore muscles aside, he wouldn't trade that day for anything. He'd forgotten how much work moving cattle was during his time out east, but he truly enjoyed every minute of the afternoon's activities. And he was glad he'd bought that sorrel when he got back to California. He almost hadn't; he'd questioned why he should spend money he could ill-afford on a trained cutting horse when all he really needed was a dependable mount to get him around. But the intelligence in the eyes looking out at him from behind that crooked blaze called to him and he ended up willingly parting with the cash.

Jarrod stretched and tried not to think about the aches he'd have in the morning. He'd have to get out from behind his desk on a more regular basis before he really got soft. Not that hanging around with the Barkleys would provide much opportunity for that, he thought with a chuckle as he pulled the blanket over his chest. Those boys played as hard as they worked if tonight was any indication. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, thinking again that if he ever had brothers, Nick and Heath Barkley were just what he'd have asked for.


	5. Chapter 5

Jarrod wrote the last few words on the document. He wanted to finish the will he was drawing up before going back to his notes on the Barkley-Craddock boundary dispute. The case was coming before the judge soon and Jarrod needed to make sure he hadn't overlooked anything, especially considering Hal Walker was now representing Ezra Craddock. Nick grumbled and snarled when he found out the news and demanded Jarrod do something. But Jarrod calmed the irate rancher and advised Nick to let it be. Not that Jarrod wasn't annoyed as well; jumping sides in the middle of a case was completely unethical, but he'd rather not make a personal enemy of the man if he could help it. Walker was a long established lawyer in Stockton and Jarrod had already created hard feelings by taking away the Barkleys as clients. If he was going to generate more trouble, he'd rather it was face to face in front of a judge while winning the dispute. However, if going after Walker's questionable decision would help out his client, Jarrod had no qualms about doing so, knowing he'd do the job any way he could, no holds barred.

Jarrod straightened out the papers for the will and placed them on the side of his desk to wait to be signed. He heard the door open and looked up to see a boy standing in the doorway.

"Mr. Thomson?"

"That's me," he confirmed.

The youth walked up to the desk and handed him a wrinkled envelope. "Letter for you, sir."

"Thank you, son," Jarrod said and gave the delivery boy a coin. The boy grinned and stuffed the coin in his shirt pocket, calling out his thanks as he left. Jarrod chuckled as he unfolded the message. He remembered what that felt like.

His face fell as he read the contents of the letter. Getting to his feet, he locked the front door and turned the sign to 'Closed' before heading back to his living quarters to roll a spare shirt into his bedroll and toss a few necessities into his saddlebags. Bedroll under his arm and saddlebags over his shoulder, Jarrod left the building and walked quickly to the livery for his horse to ride for Strawberry and his dying mother.

.

He pushed on through the night and stopped only when his horse stumbled in the darkness. He paused just long enough to rest the tired sorrel and give him a handful of grain and some water before letting the horse browse while he gnawed on some jerky and hardtack. As soon as a glimmer of light showed on the horizon, Jarrod was off again, hoping to reach Strawberry before it was too late. The sun wasn't very high when he dismounted in front of the small green cabin and tethered his horse to the gate in the white picket fence.

"Mama?" he called. "Hannah? Aunt Rachel?"

An elderly black woman came out of the house. "Jarrod, oh, Jarrod, you made it." She grasped the sleeve of his coat and he gave her a brief hug. "Rachel, she in with your mama. Go to her, go see her."

Jarrod walked through the front door and paused as he took in the sights and smells so familiar to him. He crossed the small living room to the open door at the back and slowly went in. The woman at the side of the bed looked over and a sad smile came across her careworn face. "Jarrod," she said gratefully and turned back to the figure in the bed. "Leah, honey, Jarrod's here."

Jarrod removed his hat and walked to the side of the bed. "How is she, Aunt Rachel?"

The greying blonde shook her head slowly. "I don't think she has long, Jarrod. I'm sorry."

Jarrod sat in the chair by the bed and Rachel left to give them some privacy. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at the ashen figure lying on the bed. Never a large woman, Leah Thomson looked even smaller against the pillow, almost transparent as though she wasn't completely of this world anymore.

"Mama," he whispered as he took the small, frail hand in his own.

Her eyes blinked open, their soft grey dull and lacklustre.

"Jarrod?" Her voice was barely audible, but Jarrod could still hear the beautiful tone that had soothed away many a nightmare in the past. "Jarrod, sweetheart, you're here."

"I'm here, Mama," he said softly as he struggled to keep the sorrow from his voice.

"Oh, I love you, my sweet boy."

"I love you, too, Mama." Jarrod almost choked on the words.

Leah struggled to sit up. Jarrod supported her and tenderly placed a pillow at her back. "Jarrod, there's something… I need to tell you," she said, her voice soft and halting. "Something… I can't take to my grave."

Jarrod blinked back the tears. "Mama, don't talk like that," he pleaded. He wasn't ready to accept the inevitable.

"It's my time, son," she responded faintly. "But get my Bible… in the box…"

Jarrod gently set her hand on the faded quilt and went to the corner where the box that his mama kept her prized possessions in resided. He pulled out the old leather bound Bible and tried to hand it to her.

"Turn to the back… to the last page…"

Jarrod did as she requested and a piece of paper fluttered out.

Jarrod bent down and picked up the paper. It was a newspaper clipping, dated almost a year before. The headline read, "Tom Barkley Shot To Death," and under that, in smaller letters, "Whole Valley Mourns".

Jarrod turned to his mother and the questions died on his lips when he saw the light had gone out of her eyes.

"Mama?" he whispered and the clipping fluttered unnoticed from his fingers. He sat on the edge of the bed and cradled her frail body to his. "Oh, Mama, no, you can't leave me. I love you, Mama."

Jarrod broke down and wept unashamedly against the lifeless body of his mother as he rocked her gently in his arms.

.

He came out of the room a little while later and both his mother's friends, women who helped raise him, saw the tears on his face and started crying themselves. Setting down the box he was carrying, Jarrod went to them, put an arm around each and they mourned together.

"Miss Leah, she in a better place now," Hannah told them and patted both on the arm. "I best get her ready." She headed into the bedroom and Rachel turned to follow.

"Aunt Rachel." Jarrod's words stopped her in her tracks. He took the clipping out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Before Mama…" He swallowed back the lump in his throat. "Before she passed, she wanted me to see this." Rachel came over slowly and took the paper from his hand. "Is Tom Barkley my father?"

Rachel nodded and silently indicated for them to sit at the table. Jarrod clenched his hands in front of him as he tried to control the emotions that came from that revelation.

"Why didn't anyone ever tell me?" His voice was almost a whisper.

Rachel sighed. "I wanted to, Jarrod, but Leah wouldn't have it. She never gave her reasons, but I could guess." She reached out her hand and covered his clenched fist. "She loved you, Jarrod. Never doubt that."

Jarrod shook his head. "I don't. I'm not angry with her, it's _him_ I hold responsible." Even though she never mentioned his name, his mother occasionally talked about his father and as a small boy, it seemed to Jarrod his father was the greatest man who ever lived. As he grew older, he'd questioned his mama time and time again who his father was and why he never visited. She always changed the subject at that and the illusions of a young boy shattered over time. Jarrod thought of all the things he'd heard about Tom Barkley, the praise and respect given a great man. A great man who lived high in that fine mansion, while his bastard son spent most of his childhood in squalor.

Angrily pushing back his chair, Jarrod got to his feet. "I have to go get a place ready for Mama."

"Jarrod, before you do, there's more in that box you should look at. It might help you understand."

Jarrod gave a cynical laugh. "Understand what, Aunt Rachel? How the high and mighty Tom Barkley got my mother with child and abandoned her? Why we lived up here, in poverty, Mama called a tramp and worse, while he had the respect of the whole valley?"

His aunt handed him the box. "Look in it, Jarrod. You're a lawyer, you know the value of going over all the evidence before reaching a conclusion."

Jarrod stalked outside and sat on the porch step before looking at the box in his hands. His face softened a little as he remembered making it and the smile that lit up his mama's face when he gave it to her that Christmas morning. Carefully opening the lid, he removed the Bible he'd returned to its place. Underneath were a few things, a hair comb, a blue ribbon he won at a spelling bee in school and a man's gold watch. He picked up the watch and turned it over and his hand involuntarily clenched when he saw the initials 'TB' engraved on the back. Putting the watch on the Bible beside him, he took out the envelope at the bottom. His mother's name was on the front in a familiar hand, written in the same script that he'd seen on documents in the Barkley home.

Jarrod's hand shook as he removed the letter from the envelope and started reading.

_Dear Leah,_

_When you slammed the door in my face last week, I wanted to believe you. I wanted to believe that our time together did not result in a child and had almost convinced myself of that fact when I saw him. He was unhitching a buggy at the livery stable and when he turned my way, I knew without a doubt I was looking at my son._

_I believe I understand why you did not tell me and why you denied that he was my child even after I showed you Mrs. Caufield's letter telling me about him. You must know, Leah, that I would never take your son away from you. Even though I wish I could bring him to live with his brothers and sister and see him grow into a man, and as much as it pains me to keep something like this from my family, I will respect your wishes and not tell a soul or try to contact him._

_Mrs. Caufield tells me he is a very bright young lad and is concerned that the boy is talking about leaving school so he can better support you both. To that end, I have entrusted a sum of money to her so your son can get the education he deserves without having to worry about putting food on the table or a roof over your heads. I have also sent a gold watch that I received from my father when I left for California. Someday I would like my son to have it as a memento of the father he will never know. As per your wishes, I will not contact you again, but please know you may contact me if there is anything at all you need._

_You are a wonderful woman, Leah, perhaps the only woman in the world I could have loved as much as I love my wife. And someday very soon, I hope you will meet someone, you will fall in love as you deserve and he will love you and your son as you both deserve to be loved. And you will be as happy as I am, as proud as I am of my family, as I know you must be of your boy._

_Be well, Leah._

_Sincerely,_

_Tom_

Jarrod was still. He found his hate for Tom Barkley lessen somewhat along with the resentment of the fact his mama never told him about his father. With a painful clarity, he now understood some of the reasons behind their actions. The law stated that a child was the property of his father and he realized his mama must have worried that the rich man down in the valley would take her son away from her. Even though he would have been richer in material things if Tom had asserted his rights and still held some bitterness that he'd just thrown money their way, Jarrod couldn't help but feel a touch of gratitude to the man that he had left his son in his mama's loving arms.

Jarrod looked again at the date on the top of the page. He remembered that time. Only twelve, he knew how hard it was to make ends meet so had told his mama of his intention to leave school and take a full-time job. A few weeks later, his Aunt Rachel told them that a far-off relative had included her in his will and she was going to use the money to enroll Jarrod in boarding school in Sacramento. Both he and his mother tried to protest, but Rachel was adamant and since the only thing Jarrod loved better than horses was learning, the protests weren't as strong as they could have been. Soon, he was off to immerse himself in the books he loved in a place where no one knew his history. He didn't need to worry about how his mother was getting along without him; they missed each other, but when Jarrod came home on school breaks, their house was always in good repair and for the first time, there had been enough food that no one went hungry. He'd never even considered his unknown father might be their benefactor and instead of cursing the name of the man who'd sired him, Jarrod sent up a brief thought of thanks before tucking the letter away.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun beat down mercilessly as Jarrod dug the grave under the big old tree in Strawberry's weed-choked churchyard. He straightened up and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. The heat compelled him to shed his shirt long before and he grabbed for his canteen and tilted his head for a long drink. Stray droplets trickled down his sweaty chest as he ducked and poured some of the cool water over the back of his neck before slicking back his wet hair. Picking up the shovel again, Jarrod went back to his task, throwing scoopfuls of dirt out of the grave.

The mindless work gave him time to think, time to consider what he was going to do with his newfound discovery that Tom Barkley was his father. A part of him wanted to march into that grand house, proclaim his parentage and demand what he was entitled to: a name, a heritage, a part of it all. In spite of the circumstances of his birth, he was Tom Barkley's son just as much as Nick and Heath and there was no reason he shouldn't wear that proud name just the same as they did.

Jarrod tossed up another shovelful as the sweat ran down his back. There was more to consider, though, the feelings of the rest of Tom Barkley's family. In the couple weeks he'd been in Stockton, he'd gotten to know them all. Nick and Heath were becoming good friends and even their little sister, seemingly shallow and flighty at first, had gained his respect with her selfless work for those less fortunate.

And then there was Mrs. Barkley. Jarrod flung more dirt out of the grave. Gracious and kind, she had opened her home to him and even extended a standing invitation to Sunday dinner with the family when she found out he lived alone. How could he drop a bombshell like that on such a lovely lady and reveal that her husband had been unfaithful and fathered a son on another woman? No, Jarrod couldn't bring himself do that. It just wasn't in him to hurt people he was growing to like and respect. He was content with his life, doing what he loved, and if he didn't tell Nick and Heath he was their brother, at least he could still be their friend.

Jarrod inspected his work, decided it was finished and hauled himself out of the hole. He grabbed for his shirt and halted when he heard the gravelly voice behind him.

"You'd better cover that up. It's a disgrace, kin of mine looking like he's done hard time."

Jarrod turned slowly to face the lanky man standing there looking at him with undisguised contempt. He hadn't thought anyone would be around to see the scars that criss-crossed his back and arms when he took off his shirt and donned it now with slow, deliberate movements.

"Uncle Matt."

Matt Simmons looked at the freshly dug grave with a sneer. "And what do you think you're doing, burying that tramp of a sister of mine here with good, decent folk?"

Jarrod held tightly to his temper. "My mama was a good, decent woman," he said firmly, "she deserves a proper burial. And there's no one left in Strawberry to say otherwise."

The grizzled man looked as though he was going to argue, but the grim look on Jarrod's face made him reconsider and he changed the subject. "So I hear you've set up in Stockton."

"Yep." Jarrod had no desire for a prolonged conversation with his mother's brother.

"Met the Barkleys yet?'

Jarrod looked up sharply. He could see the calculating gleam in Simmons' eyes. "Real nice folks," he said casually as he gathered up his shovel and canteen.

"Real rich folks," Simmons corrected.

Jarrod tightened his grip on the shovel. "What are you getting at, Uncle Matt?"

Simmons crossed his arms and leaned back against the trunk of the tree. "Oh, just that there's things you should know, things we're owed for what Martha and I did for you and your mother."

"There's nothing you can tell me that I don't already know, Uncle Matt," Jarrod stated bluntly. "And the Barkleys don't owe anybody anything. Especially not you and Aunt Martha. Now if you'll excuse me…" Jarrod pushed past Simmons only to have his uncle grab his arm.

"Now listen, you little bastard," Simmons growled, face inches from Jarrod's. "You may have got yourself a high falutin' law degree, but I'm still owed for the shame you put our family through on account of being born. You and that little tramp you call a mother…"

Jarrod's fist caught him neatly in the chin and sent Simmons stumbling backwards before he was able to finish.

"I'm not that little boy you used to bully and beat up on, Uncle Matt," Jarrod snarled and Simmons inched away with fear in his eyes as Jarrod advanced on him threateningly. "And you'd better keep that filthy mouth off my mama and stay away from the Barkleys unless you want to feel more of my fists." He snatched up the dropped shovel and stalked off, not bothering to watch Simmons slink away.

Jarrod stopped briefly to wash at the pump as he walked back to the cabin. He went into the house and silently picked up the body of his mother, dressed lovingly by Hannah and Rachel in her best dress, and carried her out to lay her gently in the wooden casket he'd built earlier.

As he pushed the cart he'd found to take the coffin to his mama's final resting place, he noticed Matt Simmons and his wife watching from the shadows of the hotel. _They'd better keep their distance, _he thought grimly, _or there'll be hell to pay._ But he knew his uncle was too much of a coward to confront him again. He made a mental note to talk to Rachel and make sure that she'd contact him if they gave her or Hannah any trouble after he left.

Before he knew it, they were at the churchyard and Jarrod reverently set the coffin beside the freshly dug grave.

Jarrod turned to the elderly black woman beside him. "Hannah, you know best what she'd like to have said over her. Please?"

Hannah nodded, closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them, their soft brown shining clearly as she recited, " *'Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One, your Saviour…' " She closed her eyes again and her hand sought Jarrod's to hold it tightly.

Rachel then spoke, reciting one of Leah's Thomson's favourite passages. " **'The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.' "

"Amen," they murmured together. Jarrod carefully tied the length of rope he brought with them around the coffin and slowly lowered it into the grave before he fell to his knees with his heart breaking.

Hannah threw a handful of dirt onto the coffin. "***'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust'," she said softly and turned away to walk slowly back through town. Rachel did the same before following to leave Jarrod a final moment alone.

"I know you're in a better place, Mama," Jarrod whispered as tears rolled unashamedly down his cheeks. "I just wish that better place could still be here with me." He knelt beside the grave until his grief wore itself out.

Finally standing and picking up the shovel, Jarrod tossed the dirt into the grave and the earth hit the wooden coffin with a dull thud, a sound Jarrod knew his heart would never forget.

.

_*__Isaiah 43:1-3 _

_**__Psalms 23:1-6 _

_***__Book of Common Prayer_


	7. Chapter 7

Jarrod didn't think he'd ever done anything harder in his life than keep his paternity a secret when he returned to Stockton and ran into Nick before he even got his horse to the livery.

"Thomson! Where've you been?" came the familiar yell down the street.

"Emergency out of town," he said and tried to appear casual. _My brother. _The thought came unbidden to his mind as the tall rancher strode up to him.

"Hmph. You missed a heck of a poker game last night. I think Heath cleaned out most of the town."

"Well, Nick," Jarrod said with a chuckle to mask the regret of finally having not only one, but two brothers and not able to acknowledge it, "I guess it was a good thing for my pocketbook that I wasn't around."

"That is a fact," Nick agreed with a wide grin and followed Jarrod as he handed his horse's reins to the hosteller. "Say, Jarrod," he said after the lawyer arranged for an extra measure of grain, "I've got some contracts from the army at home for the sale of our beef. Why don't you come out so we can go over them and then you can stay for dinner?"

Jarrod wondered if he could bear dinner with the Barkleys so soon after the death of his mother and learning about his father. "Sure, Nick," he agreed finally. It wasn't as if he really wanted to avoid the family, assuming he even could. "I've probably got some things waiting for me at the office, but why don't we say around four-thirty? That way I'll have time to change and clean up first."

Nick eyed the travel-stained clothes and unshaven appearance of his friend. "You look like you've been a few hard miles," he observed. "Nothing serious, I hope."

Jarrod shrugged. "Personal business," was all he said. He wasn't up to talking about his trip to Strawberry. "I'll see you later, all right, Nick?"

"Yeah, Jarrod, see you." Nick watched as Jarrod headed in the direction of his office. He hadn't missed the sadness in those blue eyes and wondered if Jarrod might need to talk to someone. He'd counted the dark-haired lawyer as a friend even before he rescued him from the stampede, a closer friend than many that the rancher had known for years. After moving the cattle, Nick realized he and Jarrod had a lot in common despite their different backgrounds, almost as much as he and Heath, and he was anxious to continue and expand on that friendship. Nick decided to let Jarrod know he was willing to listen when the lawyer came out to the ranch. It always did a man good to know he had a friend he could unburden some of his troubles to.

.

As soon as Jarrod arrived at his office, he took the opportunity for a sketchy wash to clean away the sweat and dust from his ride back from Strawberry and heated enough water for a good shave with a little left over for coffee. He was just wiping off the last of the soap when he heard the outer office door open.

"I'll be with you in a moment." Jarrod grabbed a clean shirt and hastily buttoned it, tucking it in and slicking back his hair as he made sure he was presentable in the cracked mirror over the washbasin. When he exited through the door that connected his living space with the office, Jarrod was surprised to see Victoria Barkley standing there. "Mrs. Barkley," he greeted as he quickly covered his shock with his best courtroom face, "what brings you here?"

"Oh, I was in town and thought I'd drop by. If the timing is convenient, of course."

"Your timing is fine," he assured her. "Is there something specific I can do for you?"

"No, not really," but Jarrod could see hesitation in her eyes.

Pulling out a chair, he asked, "Would you like some coffee? I have a pot on the stove."

Victoria sat in the offered chair. "No, I'm fine." She looked at her hands clasped in her lap and Jarrod sat back against the desk. He wondered what it was that was making her so uneasy and suddenly had a sinking suspicion that he already knew.

The suspicion grew when she asked, "Mr. Thomson, could I ask you a personal question?"

"Of course you can, Mrs. Barkley," he replied and tried to keep his tone light, "but I'm not going to promise to answer it."

She continued to stare at her hands, eventually looking at him with determination in her grey eyes. "Do you know who your father was?"

It was all Jarrod could do to return her gaze with a steady one of his own as every instinct told him she was already aware of the truth. "Mrs. Barkley, do you really need me to answer that?"

"No, I suppose I don't."

An awkward silence stretched between them. "You knew?" Jarrod finally asked.

Victoria bit her lip to help keep her composure. "I suspected. When you first entered the house that evening with Nick and Heath. You look so much like Tom, like your father…" Her voice broke, but she waved off the handkerchief Jarrod pulled from his pocket. "No, I'm all right." She took a deep breath and looked him again in the eyes. "And you? Have you known all along?"

"No." Jarrod slowly shook his head. "I only just found out. My mama finally told me… right before she died." He closed his eyes against the grief that was still so new and opened them when he felt a gentle hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry, Jarrod," Victoria said softly.

He nodded and held back the tears as he took a bit of comfort in the compassion he saw on her face. "I never intended to tell you." It came out in almost a whisper; he didn't trust his voice at the moment. "I didn't want to see anyone hurt."

"For me, the hurt happened a long time ago," she assured him. "I knew of my husband's infidelity and it took a while to forgive him, but I did. I only wish we would have known about you."

"He knew." At Victoria's appalled expression, Jarrod hurried to set her mind at ease. "It's not how it sounds. Wait here a moment." He disappeared into the back and returned with the wooden box. He took the letter from where it sat on top and handed it to his father's wife. "He wrote this to my mother."

As she read, Jarrod watched Victoria's features soften. She refolded the letter carefully and handed it back, a glimmer of wetness in her eyes.

"Jarrod," she said slowly, "you deserve a place with your family. No one can deny you your father's birthright, you're entitled to it as much as Nick or Heath or Audra are."

Jarrod was silent. He never thought he would just be offered a place among Tom Barkley's legitimate children. He considered it for a moment and imagined what it would be like to have a name that was respected, to have a little sister to protect and take care of, to have those brothers he'd always wanted. But in order to have that, he'd have to destroy their image of their father and cause them to question the integrity of a man they revered and looked up to. In spite of Victoria Barkley's generous offer, that wasn't something he could do.

"No, Mrs. Barkley," Jarrod finally said. "Your offer is very kind, but I can't do that to you or your family. I don't want to hurt the memory your children have of their father or the reputation he has in this town." Jarrod looked around the simple office with an air of pride. "I have a good life," he told her, "and I'm content with what I have. Mama raised me with love and I like to think I made her proud."

There was a hint of sadness in Victoria's smile. "I can't see how any mother wouldn't be proud to have raised such a son." She reached up and touched his cheek lightly. "If you ever need anything, Jarrod…" He nodded and clasped her hand briefly before she turned to go.

"Mrs. Barkley," he called just as she was about to open the door, "your husband's watch, the one he sent…" Jarrod opened the box again and dug out the gold timepiece. "This rightfully belongs with you."

Victoria walked back over and took the watch, turning it over to trace the engraved initials before she placed it back in Jarrod's hand and closed his fingers around it. "No, Jarrod," she said softly, "your father wanted you to have it. And so do I."

Jarrod stared at it and was unable to speak for a moment. "Thank you," he said quietly. "Could you… could you tell Nick I can't make it out to the ranch tonight? If he wants, he can drop off the contracts in the morning and I'll look them over then."

Victoria nodded in understanding. "Of course. But I do hope we'll see you out there soon."

"I'll see what I can do," he told her, unwilling to make any promises. She rested her hand on his for a moment before leaving and Jarrod sat for a long while before he tucked the watch into his pocket and tried to settle down to some work.


	8. Chapter 8

Nick was furious. Their blacksmith had shown up that morning, drunk for the second time in a row and he had no choice but to fire the man on the spot. Then one of the hands reported that a large section of fence was down in the south pasture and he had to send every available man to fix it before their cattle mixed with the Miles' herd to cause everybody that much more work. And to top it all off, he had to deliver the army contracts to town rather than Jarrod looking them over the previous evening. Nick debated waiting; they could sure use his help to fix the fence, but the contract the army was offering was a lucrative one and Nick was loath to have them offer it to someone else if he delayed.

Heath was more than competent to make sure everything was done to satisfaction, Nick told himself as he rode up to the law office; his younger brother was even more exacting than he was. Nick reminded himself not to be angry with Jarrod. After all, he'd sent word he wasn't able to make it and Nick had felt something was wrong when he ran into the lawyer earlier the previous day. But that didn't make things any less inconvenient and Nick shut the door behind him harder than he intended.

"If it falls off the hinges, I'll have to add it to your bill," came the smooth voice from behind the desk.

"Hmph." Nick slapped the papers onto the desk and then took a deep breath, a bit chagrined at his fit of temper. "Sorry, Jarrod, just been having myself a day. I brought those contracts for you to look over."

Jarrod glanced at the sheaf of paper. "Will it be okay if I get back to you after I go over them?"

Nick opened his mouth to protest that he ran a working ranch and didn't have time to sit around or ride back and forth from town, but he saw Jarrod's worn down appearance and decided now wasn't the time.

"Yeah, sure. Can you make it later today, though? I want to give them an answer as soon as I can, tomorrow if possible."

"I'll have it done, Nick." Jarrod reached into his pocket and pulled out his watch, flipping it open. "If you can stick around town for a bit, why don't we say an hour? Ten o'clock okay?'

But Nick didn't answer. He was staring at the timepiece in Jarrod's hand.

"Where the devil did you get that watch?" he growled as he leaned over the desk.

Jarrod looked up abruptly and a guilty expression crossed his face. Guilt, and something else that set Nick's nerves on edge.

"I was given it," Jarrod said shortly as he tucked it back into his pocket.

Nick wasn't going to accept that. He recognized that watch, recognized the engraved pattern and the large scratch that marred the front even though he hadn't seen the watch for years. He'd better have known that scratch; he was the one who'd put it there so many years ago and been punished with a trip behind the woodshed. "Given it by who?" His voice was laced with menace.

"My mother, Nick, all right? Will you just leave so I can get some work done?" Jarrod's own voice was becoming tinged with anger.

"Your mother?" Nick took two steps around the side of the desk and grabbed Jarrod by the front of his shirt to haul him to his feet. "How the devil did your mother get my father's watch?"

Jarrod broke Nick's hold with a hard shove. "Because he was my father, too!"

The silence that descended on the room was so thick they both could feel it.

Nick's roar shattered that silence. "How dare you? You lying bastard!" He lashed out and his fist connected solidly with Jarrod's jaw to knock the lawyer backwards across the desk and papers scattered to the floor.

Jarrod pushed himself to his feet. "I may be a bastard, Nick, but I'm not in the habit of lying."

"You can't expect me to buy that load of manure, can you?" Nick sneered. "You said yourself you grew up in a mining camp. You know there were a lot of men in those camps, you know the kind of women…"

This time it was Jarrod's fist that knocked Nick into the wall. "There was only one of my mother!" he shouted. "She was warm and gentle and she did the best she could, raising a son all alone after _he _got her with child and left her!"

Nick wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. "You get out," he spat with an ominous growl. "You get out and don't you dare spread any of those filthy lies or I'll finish what I started!"

"Nick, it's my damned office!" Jarrod yelled. "You're the one who needs to get out! And don't you ever threaten me!"

Nick clenched his fist as though to flatten Jarrod again, but instead just snatched up his hat and slammed it down on his head, slamming the door on the way out as well.

Jarrod sagged into a chair as the anger drained away. He truly hadn't meant to reveal that he and Nick shared a father, but the words had come out almost of their own will. Jarrod desperately wished he could take them back, but it was too late. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he looked at the mess the altercation had made of his office. He started picking up the papers before he recognized the contracts Nick had brought by. It wasn't too likely he was going to remain the Barkleys' lawyer, he thought cynically as he placed the documents on his desk, not if Nick had anything to say about it. It seemed as though his law career in Stockton was about to come to a short, inglorious end.

.

Nick stormed into the house and slammed the door behind him. He bashed his hat down on the table and started stripping his gloves off, finger by finger.

"Nicholas, if any windows have been broken…" Victoria stopped in mid-scold. "Nick, what's wrong? What happened?"

"That lying, no-good snake of a lawyer," Nick ranted, "that's what happened!"

"Nick, I have told you that even though you and Hal Walker don't get along, that's no reason…"

"I'm not talking about Hal Walker," he said, his voice dripping with scorn, "I'm talking about that rat, Thomson!" He slapped his gloves down beside the hat.

Nick couldn't place the expression that came over his mother's face. "Nick," she said slowly, "what did Jarrod do?"

"He…" Nick gritted his teeth in frustration. There was no way he was going to repeat that good-for-nothing lawyer's lies and upset her. "A difference of opinion, Mother," he snapped and turned to head up the stairs.

"He told you, didn't he." That statement stopped Nick in his tracks and he turned around slowly as Victoria continued. "He told you he was your brother."

Nick stared at her in shock before he got his voice back. "Dammit, Mother!" Nick hollered. "How the devil can you believe such a damn pack of lies?"

"Nicholas Jonathan Barkley, I will not tolerate that kind of language in my house!" Victoria's volume rivalled that of her thunderous son.

"Boy howdy, what's going on in here?" Both turned to see Heath standing in the doorway. He came inside and shut the door behind him. "I swear I could hear you both clear to the north ridge."

"It's nothing." Nick's mutter caused Heath to raise an eyebrow.

"Sounded like a pretty important nothing," he said casually as he took off his own hat.

"You're right, Heath," Victoria told him. "It isn't nothing. Jarrod wasn't going to tell you, but things like this have a way of coming out and I for one am glad it has."

"Wasn't going to…?" Nick shook his head in disbelief and barked, "He sure has a funny way of showing it!"

"Would someone mind telling me what's going on?" asked Heath.

Nick stalked into the parlour. He poured himself a generous helping of whiskey as he announced, "I need a drink." He tossed the first shot back and refilled his glass.

Victoria took her blond son's arm and guided him over to the sofa. "I think you're going to need to sit down, dear."

She sat beside him and started to explain. "Before any of you were born, right after your father and I came to this valley, your father started building our lives. We both worked hard and he was gone much of the time, trying to make a name for himself. That was when we lost our first child." Heath was looking at her with compassionate eyes and Nick was turned away as she continued.

"I was a mess. I blamed myself, I blamed this place, but most of all, I blamed your father for not being there when it happened. So one day, after another argument, I kicked him out." There were tears in her eyes. "After a month or so, I was convinced that I had destroyed my marriage. I missed him so much and when he came back, I was beside myself with joy. Then he told me about the affair." She sighed. "I eventually forgave your father, and when you came along, Nick, and then you, Heath, our lives fell back into place."

Understanding dawned on Heath's face, followed by disbelief, then anger. "Mother, are you trying to tell us that Father was unfaithful to you and now Jarrod's claiming to be his son?"

Nick whirled and made the crystal shudder as he slammed his glass on the table. "And Mother thinks he's telling the truth, can you believe that?"

"What is he asking for, Mother?" Heath asked grimly. "How much does he want?"

Victoria shook her head sadly. "He doesn't want anything, Heath. I offered it to him, a place as your father's son, but he turned me down."

"You offered him…?" Nick paced across the room and stood by the fireplace. "Well, don't that just beat all!"

Heath leaned forward, considering. "Nick, if Mother went that far, Jarrod must have some pretty convincing proof."

"Yes he does." Victoria fixed both her sons with a steely look. "For one thing, he looks just like your father did at that age." When Nick opened his mouth to protest, she held up a cautioning hand. "You only remember him later, after he started wearing a beard. Your father's hair was lighter, but there is no doubt in my mind that Jarrod takes after him."

"Lots of people have lookalikes, Mother," Heath reminded her.

"I know, Heath. But he was born in Strawberry and his mother's name was Leah Thomson, the name…" She paused as her voice caught. "The name of the woman your father was with."

"He has Father's watch," Nick broke in suddenly and his belligerence evaporated. "That's what started it all. He had Father's watch and I demanded to know where he got it. He wouldn't tell me at first…" Nick swore softly under his breath and finally admitted to himself all the things about Jarrod that reminded him of their father: the way he sat on a horse, that twinkle of mischief he could get in those blue eyes, his ability to make those around him trust him and feel confident. All those traits pointed to Jarrod Thomson being Tom Barkley's son and Nick's doubts faded. "He really is our brother, isn't he?"

.

"Come in," Nick called at the soft tap on his door later that evening. He wasn't surprised when Heath came in and closed the door behind him. The blond walked over to sit beside his brother on the edge of the bed. They sat silently and each knew what the other was thinking.

"What do you want to do about it?" Heath eventually asked, deferring to his older brother.

Nick ran his hand through his hair to brush back the stray lock that fell over his forehead. "I dunno, Heath. Reckon Jarrod and I had some pretty harsh words there in his office."

Heath snickered. "We've had our share of harsh words ourselves, Nick," he reminded his volatile brother.

Nick had a small grin at that. "That we have. But we've been brothers our whole lives, Heath. Even if we end up in a knock-down, drag-out brawl, we've always had all the other times we've been there for each other, all the times we've had each other's back." Nick smacked his fist into his other hand. "We don't have that with Jarrod, dammit! Father never gave us that chance!"

Heath leaned forward on his elbows and stared at his hands reflectively. "No, he didn't, Nick," he replied, "but from what Mother told us about the letter he wrote, he was just respecting Jarrod's mama's wishes."

"Well, what about us?" Nick wanted to know. "And what about Jarrod? Father didn't have to take him away from his mama to tell us about him, to let us have the chance to know our older brother and him to know us."

"Maybe he thought he might lose our love and our respect," Heath observed softly.

Nick snorted. "Happened anyway, he just isn't around to see it."

The two brothers were quiet as they thought about the man they now knew was their brother and all the years they'd missed out on.

"Don't know if I can stand another big brother," Heath remarked after a bit, "but reckon it'll be fun watching you get bossed around for a change."

"Yeah, that'll be the day." Nick reached up to tousle his brother's blond hair and Heath swatted his hand away.

"Cut that out, Nick," he protested as Nick laughed.

"Don't reckon law school prepared Jarrod for annoying little brothers," Nick teased before growing serious again. "But after what happened in town today and what Mother said that Jarrod told her, I don't know if he'll let us have that chance."

"All we can do is try, Nick," Heath said finally. "Jarrod's a part of this family, even though he doesn't realize it yet. There ain't any place else he belongs."


	9. Chapter 9

The two brothers entered the office the next morning to find Jarrod removing books from their shelf.

"What the devil are you doing, Jarrod?" Nick demanded, even though he already had a good idea he knew what the answer was.

"I'm leaving town, Nick," Jarrod replied coolly as he took down the last few books and stowed them in the trunk. "That's what you want, isn't it?"

Nick regretted his words of the previous day even more and folded his arms across his chest. "No, that's not what I want, dammit!"

Jarrod didn't even look at him. "Could've fooled me." He walked over to the opposite wall and took down his framed degree, placing it carefully on top of the books.

"Jarrod…"

"What Nick's trying to say," Heath interrupted, "is that his mouth and his fists tend to be a mite faster than his brain."

Jarrod latched the trunk and straightened up to stare both of them in the eye. "What is it you want from me?" he snapped angrily.

"We don't want anything from you, Jarrod," Heath said, "only the chance to be your brothers."

Jarrod looked at them in disbelief.

"I'm sorry for yesterday, Jarrod," Nick apologized. "Like Heath said, I tend to hit before I think."

Jarrod shrugged uncomfortably. "Don't worry yourself about it, Nick. It's not like I acted any better." He walked over to his desk and picked up a sheaf of papers. "I really think it's best that I leave," he finally stated after staring at them for a moment. "I don't want to cause any problems. I can hang my shingle almost anywhere, especially considering I don't really have anything to tie me here anymore."

Heath looked at him questioningly. "Didn't you say your mama lives just up the road in Strawberry?"

Jarrod closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "My mama died three days ago," he said softly. "I figure since I don't have any family left, I might as well go somewhere I can start out fresh." He handed Nick the papers. "Here are those army contracts. I looked them over and they seem sound, but I added in a clause on page two. And the notes for the boundary dispute are there, too. I'm pretty sure any lawyer can settle it in your favour." He turned and started gathering up pencils and loose pieces of paper from the desk.

Nick and Heath exchanged looks before stepping up to flank their brother.

"Jarrod, you got family," Heath told him, "us."

Nick leaned against the desk. "I never had a big brother. Shouldn't let Heath here have all the fun."

Jarrod hung his head, both hands planted firmly on the desk. "You don't know what you're doing, boys. You have no idea what sort of trouble could come out if people find out Tom Barkley fathered a bastard son." He looked at each of them in turn, blue eyes disturbed. "You've got your mother to think about, and your little sister." He shook his head and stared back down at the desk. "I'll be all right. You worry about your family."

Nick reached up and roughly squeezed Jarrod's shoulder. "How many times do we have to say it before it gets through that thick head of yours? You _are_ family."

Jarrod just shook his head again and Heath had to grin.

"Reckon he's a Barkley all right," the blond said to Nick. "Stubborn and mule-headed 'til the end."

"That is a fact, Heath," Nick agreed. "C'mon, Jarrod, we know Mother already asked and now we're asking. Give us a chance."

In spite of himself, Jarrod started to chuckle. "You build quite a case, gentlemen," he observed. He was silent for moment before saying, "I'll think about it, but I'm not promising anything other than that."

"Will you at least come out for dinner?" Jarrod looked into Heath's blue eyes, so like his own, and found them full of unconcealed sincerity. Looking back at Nick, Jarrod saw that sincerity mirrored in those hazel eyes as well.

"Maybe tomorrow," he stated reluctantly. "There's just… I've got too much to think about tonight."

Nick grabbed Jarrod's shoulder again. "Tomorrow," he confirmed. "If you don't show up, Heath and I'll be here to drag your sorry carcass back with us."

.

Jarrod took his horse from the livery when he started to feel trapped and closed in by the twelve-by-fourteen room of his living space. Outside, with the fresh air rushing past his face as he urged the sorrel into a gallop, Jarrod could almost believe his worries were being swept away by the wind. He pushed even faster and the horse beneath him eagerly lengthened his strides. They raced along, man and horse and Jarrod could imagine they were going faster than the fastest steam engine. When the gelding started to falter, he reluctantly slowed to a trot, then a walk, giving the horse a breather as they followed the trail through the trees.

He almost missed the low picket fence, the flowers planted alongside and pulled the sorrel's head around. Jarrod slowly dismounted and walked to the small, lovingly tended plot and couldn't help comparing it to the weed-choked churchyard where he laid his mama to rest three days before. He'd get up there as soon as possible, Jarrod vowed to himself, clear out the overgrowth and bring her a proper headstone.

Wondering who was buried out here so far from everything, he knelt down and his breath caught in his throat as he read the inscription.

THOMAS BARKLEY

Jarrod wrestled with his emotions as he stared at the stone that was all that remained of the earthly presence of his father. But Jarrod knew Tom Barkley's true legacy had been left in the vast Barkley business interests and more importantly, in that big white house in the form of the wife and children he'd left behind.

Jarrod wondered if he really had a part in that legacy. Even though he'd always wanted what the Barkleys were offering, the respect brought by a name and the chance to know more of his family, he was having a hard time wrapping his head around the events of the past few days.

He'd always had a family in his mama, plus Rachel and Hannah, but in most ways, he'd also been on his own, ever since he first realized that the people of Strawberry treated him differently, thanks mostly to his Uncle Matt's derision. When his uncle told him flat out that he was a mistake and Leah should have abandoned him at an orphanage or left him out for the coyotes when he was born, Jarrod vowed he wouldn't be a burden on anyone if he could help it, especially not his mama, whom he knew loved him more than anything. He took odd jobs after school, worked at the livery when he was big enough, and did whatever was necessary to make her life easier. When war broke out, he signed up out of a belief every man had a right to choose his own path and quickly became a sharpshooter where he often only had himself to rely on. Even when he was reading law and later in Harvard, Jarrod was still set apart from his peers due to his humble circumstances and never even considered that things could be different.

Looking at the imposing tombstone, Jarrod wondered if he could really fit in with the Barkleys. He'd been exposed to that world when he was back east, invited to functions by classmates who considered themselves charitable and professors and other lawyers who were trying to woo the brilliant young law student into their firms. But even though he quickly learned how to blend in, he never really felt like he belonged.

Jarrod sighed. Was it selfish of him that he wanted to belong? In spite of the scorn he feared his father's family would be subject to once the truth was known? He gazed at Tom Barkley's resting place, wanting desperately to take the family's offer but fearing what that might entail.

Then he had to chuckle. That was the simple truth. He was scared. He, Jarrod Thomson, who'd faced the gates of Hell and made it out intact, was scared of finding out he didn't belong and even more scared of finding out that he did.

He eventually stood and muscles that had been too still for too long gave a silent protest as he walked over to his horse and mounted. He didn't know what the future held, but the awareness of what it might hold was something he knew he couldn't walk away from without giving it a chance.

.

Jarrod took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves after knocking on the imposing front door.

"Good evening, Mr. Thomson," the Barkleys' houseman greeted with a wide smile as he answered the door. "Come right on in. Let me take your hat."

"Thank you, Silas." He stood uncertainly in the foyer until he heard, "Jarrod, I'm so glad you're here." Looking over, Jarrod saw Victoria rise from the sofa with Audra behind her. The stately matriarch's hands were outstretched in greeting and she took both his hands in hers warmly.

"I found I couldn't stay away," he admitted with a slight smile. He glanced over at Audra, unsure of exactly how much she knew and was immediately answered when she threw her arms around him in a welcoming hug.

"Welcome to the family, Jarrod," she said enthusiastically, "but I do wish you would have been a girl. I've always wanted a sister, you know."

That brought a chuckle to Jarrod's lips. "Sorry to disappoint you, honey."

Audra's dimples showed when she beamed at him. "Just as long as you're not as overprotective as Nick and Heath. Honestly, some days I don't know what to do about those two." She kept her arm around his waist as they walked back to the parlour.

"I take it this means you're planning to stay?" Victoria asked, her grey eyes hopeful. Jarrod looked into those eyes and found he could see echoes of his own mama in their welcoming depths.

"Well, I…"

His response was cut short but the bellow from the front door.

"Jarrod!" Nick called exuberantly. "It's about time you showed up, boy!"

"Glad to see you, Jarrod," Heath added. His tone was more reserved than Nick's, but a warm welcome showed in his expression as well.

Jarrod suddenly felt a surge of emotion. This was something he'd never dreamed of, this outpouring of acceptance from his father's family and was hard pressed to keep the intense feelings off his face.

Nick looked around the foyer and placed a hand on his hip as he approached Jarrod. "Now how come I don't see any bags or suitcases?" he accused.

Jarrod regarded him uncertainly, unsure of what Nick was getting at. "Well, I wasn't really planning to leave town anymore…"

Victoria placed a hand on his arm. "I think what Nick's trying to ask is why you didn't bring your things with you to move in here."

Jarrod was taken aback. Acknowledgement that he was Tom Barkley's son, that had been clearly offered along with some kind of place with the Barkleys, but he'd never thought to live under the same roof as a true member of the family. "I hadn't actually considered…" Jarrod was unused to having trouble expressing himself, but the right words just wouldn't seem to come.

It was Heath who broke the silence. "Boy howdy, Jarrod, if you ain't living here how do you expect to show Nick what having a big brother is all about? You can't boss him around from back in town."

Everyone laughed at that, even Nick.

"You make a good point, brother Heath." It was amazing how easily the word 'brother' rolled off his tongue. Jarrod looked from face to face. He wasn't going to fool himself into believing it would all be as simple as it seemed, but the expressions of his new family gave him hope for a place to finally belong. "All right, we'll give it a try."

Audra reached up and gave him a kiss on the cheek and Nick and Heath both shook his hand with wide grins on their faces.

"Dinner is served," Silas announced from the doorway. Victoria slipped her hand into the crook of Jarrod's arm and they walked into the dining room together.


End file.
